


Comfort

by BubblegumCannibal



Series: Incomplete/Hiatus/Unfinished. [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Custom Trevelyan, Imalia Trevelyan, M/M, PC Trevelyan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 08:45:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5157467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubblegumCannibal/pseuds/BubblegumCannibal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt based snuggles are the best type of snuggles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> Actually posted Jan. 6 2015  
> Enjoy!

His personal quarters smell of fruit. From the main door, the scent trails down the stairs, filling the nostrils of any who enter. It’s such a gentle, clean smell. Free from dust. Free from the mixed perfumes of the court. Quite the sudden change of pace once exiting from the main foyer. Everyone seems to love it as they enter.

Silent, is it. Aside from the creaking of the stairs, the domain is rather peaceful. It’s noted to be a perfect hideaway for any Mage needing to get away for simple meditation.  That is, if  _any_ other Mage aside from Trevelyan could slip away into such a relaxing area.

Dorian, surprisingly, was one of the lucky ones. He loved traveling up those stairs, fingers gliding up the railing, feeling the indentations of the wood ripple beneath his digits. Here, he was free to rest easy. Here, he was able to travel up and down with no one to tell him he couldn’t. Here, he could grace the man of his life with a silent smile and a nudge.

The Tevinter loved pushing himself up those stairs. Sometimes he’d catch Trevelyan dressing. Other times, he was reading. Perhaps he caught him luckily going through a bit of vigorous stretching. However, now was different. Books were scattered among the floor. A few burned papers here and there, possibly from being flung into fireplace and not fully burning or burned from being caught under the glass cage that sat before it.

In the midst of the mess, there he lied. Legs curled in, arms wrapped around a pillow, propping his head of red fluff up comfortable as he slept. A rare sight, really. He’s so used to seeing him meditation or moving about, but exhausted? Like this? What a blessing to behold.

Yet a question rose in the Mage’s head of why–?  _Why sleep on the floor when you have a bed?_ He did look comfortable though, but alone. All in his body language, the way it was balled up, shirt raised a bit over his bronzed tummy and hands gripping the pillow tightly.

There could be none of that.

A soft shuffle and the man pushed a few stacks of books away with his foot and slid to the floor beside him.

Gently lifting his lover’s arm, he tucked himself into the adjusting grasp of the tired mage. A groan and a stream of unintelligible words came from him, followed with a kind, overworked smile. Within his embrace, he could hear the gentle breathing of the Inquisitor. Soothing was it, the sounds of light panic no longer echoed through the room from the occurring nightmares that usually kept him awake.

Nice. This was nice; heavily different from using his shoulder or lap as a pillow at a campsite. After the battle, once they defeat Corypheus, hopefully nights will end this way.

_Hopefully._


End file.
